“Maybe not.” He rose and began tugging the knives free from the wall, and my pulse leaped in sudden violent hope. “Do you know who I am, little man?”

“No.”

“I am Cesare Borgia, Bishop of Pamplona. My father is Rodrigo, Cardinal Borgia.”

“Father?” I raised my eyebrows. “Isn’t it traditional to pretend he’s your uncle?”

“I never pretend anything,” said Cesare Borgia. “And my father will be Pope after Innocent dies, and can do what he likes.”

“Last I heard, he was running a distant third in the pools.” If the young Bishop wished to banter, by all means, let us banter. For a chance at life, I’d talk papal gossip till the sun rose. “Behind Cardinal Sforza and Cardinal della Rovere, I believe.”

“My father has already bribed Sforza,” the young Bishop said. “Four mules loaded with silver.”

“Christendom comes cheaper than I thought.”

“Fortunately for my father. I’ve come from Pisa to aid His Eminence in angling for the votes he needs while he attends the Pope’s deathbed. He had time today, before returning to the papal chamber, to give me a few instructions. He wants me to hire someone.”

I laughed. “Surely not me!”

“I am to use my discretion. My father has enemies. They will not be able to reach him once the Conclave begins, but they might try to reach his family instead. My brother Juan and I can look after ourselves, but we have another brother not eleven years old.” His face softened briefly. “And a sister.”

“Dio,” I said, “His Eminence your father has been busy.”

“My family is vulnerable. We have guards, but visitors ushered past guards can turn out to be assassins in disguise. My father wishes a bodyguard who will stay close to the family, as a last defense. Someone easily overlooked.”

“You might want to choose a taller man than me.”

“I would,” Cesare Borgia said coolly. Outside the leaded windows, I heard the distant pealing of a bell. “But my father also wants his mistress protected. He’s making a fool of himself over a girl of eighteen, and he doesn’t want a strapping young guardsman trailing her footsteps day and night. A stunted little man like you will suit him far better where she is concerned. And your skill with knives”—tossing my blades to the desk with a clatter—“will suit me very well. No one who comes looking for my sister or my father’s mistress will look twice at you, not as anything more than the jester who makes Lucrezia laugh or the attendant who carries Giulia Farnese’s train. They’ll think it until the moment they have a blade in their throat.”

“Well, well.” I found my mouth suddenly dry. The tolling of bells was louder now, as though another bell tower had joined in. “This task you offer me—will it save me from the gallows?”